Meeting In The Middle
by cutemara
Summary: Please not Madge. Please not Katniss. Please not Prim. That is what keeps on playing over and over and over again in my mind.
1. Gale

Disclaimer: The characters in this story and The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins.

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I'm standing with the other eighteen year olds waiting for the reaping to begin. I know she's waiting next to Katniss. I can see her pale gold hair gleaming to the right. I try to catch her eye but she's looking straight ahead at the stage where the escort is just stepping up to the mic.

_Please not Madge. Please not Katniss. Please not Prim. _

That is what keeps on playing over and over and over again in my mind.

I can hear a shocked murmur ripple though the crowd and I realize that I missed the name that was called. And when I look over to the right I see that Katniss is looking straight at me while Madge is no longer standing next to her. And then I see the white of her dress as Madge makes her way towards the stage.

I start moving forward but someone grabs the back of my shirt and holds me in place. I look behind me and see that it's Thom holding me back. He's one of the few people in the district who know that Madge and I have been seeing each other in secret for months now. The other is Katniss who is still looking at me and shaking her head.

I look back towards the stage and I see Madge standing up there, tall and straight. Her father is looking at her, his face grey and drawn. And she is looking at me, her eyes full of angry tears that she doesn't let fall.

The escort moves towards the reaping ball with all the boy's names. I look back at Madge and I keep my eyes on her as she keeps her eyes on me. She still won't let her tears fall and I'm proud of her for it.

_Gale Hawthorne! _

It takes me a moment to recognize my own name. There's a child screaming and I think it must be Posy. I look back at Madge and I see her close her eyes. A tear spills over and down her cheek.

And then the anger comes; I feel it in every part of me until I have to clench my fist to stop my hands from shaking.

I feel Thom give me a quick push and I start making my way up to the stage. I don't remember how I get there but the next thing I know I am standing on the stage looking out at a sea of faces I suddenly no longer recognize. Then I turn to my left and see Madge standing there looking at me with her eyes full of determination and angry, angry tears.

The Mayor starts to read the Treaty of Treason. His voice isn't as strong as usual and I hear him pause frequently but it all sounds distant and removed. All I see are the blue of her eyes and I remember.

I remember a time when I would have mistaken the disdain in her eyes as disdain for me. I remember when I hated her for what she had and what she ate and what she wore. I remember my shock at accidentally hearing her muttering in anger against the capitol after the last reaping. I remember challenging her about it. I remember meeting her in the meadow all through summer when we were both supposed to be asleep in our beds at night. I remember hatred and anger turning to confusion and then admiration. I remember one evening, looking into her eyes and realizing I loved her.

I don't know how long it takes but it feels like too short a time before the escort is telling us to shake hands. But Madge doesn't pause, she walks into my arms and I hold her tight and sink my hands into her beautiful, heavy, gold hair. My forehead is pressed against hers and I hear her murmur softly that she loves me, she loves me, she loves me, she loves me. I don't say it back. I can't. I can't say anything right now, too full of anger at the Capitol. Too full of fear for my family. Too full of fear for her. So I do the only thing I can do and catch her lips with mine. And as I pull away I hear her breath hitch softly as she looks up at me and I can see everything she feels reflected in her eyes.

I look to the left and see Peacekeepers approaching us, they look angry and grim and I wonder if Madge and I have just guaranteed for ourselves a swift and certain death or a long and painfully drawn out punishment.

I turn to my right and there is a sea of faces looking at us in confusion. Katniss is looking at someone in the boy's section. And then she turns to face us and raises the three middle fingers of her left hand to her lips and then holds them out to us. And then the blond baker boy in the boy's section does the same. And this continues until everyone in the square is raising their hands in support.

Madge and I let go of each other and do the same until the peacekeepers reach us and pull us back behind the doors. I don't know if they will give us time with our families after what we've just done so I search for my family in the crowd. The last thing I see is my mother standing with Posy and Vick and Rory at the back of the square. Posy is sobbing but her little hand is held high.

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A/N: If there are any similarities to stories out there then I apologize; it was unconsciously done. I read a LOT of Gale/Madge stories around the time this idea came to me. If you have any concerns about the same then please PM me and bring it to my attention.

I have some more ideas but I'm not sure if I'm going to continue this or not. It's been a long time since I felt like writing anything. In the unlikely case I do, it will probably just be a series of one-shots or something.

If you liked it, I hope you will review!


	2. Madge

Disclaimer: The characters in this story and The Hunger Games belong to Suzanne Collins.

* * *

I'm standing next to Cinna waiting for the Tribute Parade to start. He has me dressed in skintight black with embellishments on the shoulders. I'm not quite sure what to expect but he tells me it will be fiery and passionate. That I shouldn't be afraid. But that itself is enough to make me fear what is coming next. I decide to trust him anyway.

It feels like days since I was last in Twelve. After the reaping, I thought we would at least get to say our good-byes but instead they made us wait in our individual rooms. And we waited. And waited. And waited. And no one came until the time for goodbyes had passed. Then they took us to the train and everything that came after is a blur. We ate the most extravagant of foods but I cannot remember what any of it tasted like. Effie kept talking but I cannot remember anything she said. I remember Gale throwing his gold plated knife against the wall but I cannot remember why. And I know Haymitch drunkenly promised me things but I cannot remember what they were.

I think I was numb.

All I remember is sneaking into Gale's room. Seeing him sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing the door, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he suppressed his sobs. All I remember is climbing onto the bed behind him and snaking my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek into his back and holding him as hard as I could. Breathing in the smell of him and preserving in my memory forever the feel of him against me.

Neither of us slept last night. And when Effie found us this morning her shrieking was probably heard all the way back home.

It's been a long day of torture in the name of beauty and longer still because I have not seen Gale. He's always been angry and that is part of what drew me to him. But since the reaping, he is unreachable in his anger. And I feel so alone.

Cinna stirs next to me and I turn to follow his gaze. I see Gale walking towards me but he looks so different that for a moment I am confused. There's a woman walking next to him, Cinna greets her and they move aside to talk in hushed whispers.

He's always been striking but I've never seen him so clean or clean-shaven. He's wearing the same skintight black that I am wearing with larger embellishments on the shoulders. He looks so tall and strong and proud and I think to myself _he's mine, he's mine, how is he mine?! _

But he doesn't look at me. He stands next to me and his beautiful grey eyes are cold and hard like steel as they watch the chariot, the horses, the other tributes, their stylists. And once again I feel so alone. I place my hand on his arms that are crossed in front of him. He spares me a quick glance before his eyes return to the other tributes, weighing, measuring, judging them.

I look back towards Cinna and Gale's stylist. They've been joined by Effie and Haymitch. I wonder why I've never noticed how close Effie and Haymitch always stand when next to each other. Haymitch doesn't look as drunk as usual and he must feel me staring at him because he turns to look at me and smirks. I honestly don't understand how my mother and he came to be such close friends but there it is. One of the great mysteries of my life.

I turn back towards Gale. He's still observing the other tributes but his stance has softened slightly. I walk towards the horses and decide to pet them for a while. It doesn't help much but the repetitive motion helps a little bit.

I'm not sure how much time passes but when I look up towards Gale, I realize he has been watching me. His eyes are soft now, soft and warm and grey.

Cinna walks up to me and directs me into the chariot and Gale steps up beside me. All around us tributes are stepping into their chariots and slowly the districts start leaving the tunnel. I can see the brightness outside. I can hear the noise of the crowds. It is overwhelming and I am glad to have Gale's warm, comforting strength on my right. Cinna arranges us to stand facing forward with our hands resting on the front of the chariot. As he leaves his whispers to me, "Stay strong!"

I don't understand but he just smirks at me and jumps off the chariot. I turn to my right to ask Gale what he means but stop when I see how intensely he is looking at me. The chariot starts moving forward with a jerk and I tighten my grip. The end of the tunnel and the chaotic brightness outside is drawing closer but I am only vaguely aware of it. Gale is looking me like I have hung the moon and stars. He leans down and softly places a kiss against my lips. I feel a fiery heat engulfing us both. And when he lets go we both turn to face the light drawing closer.

With him beside me, I cannot be afraid.

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A/N: I read the book so long ago that I can't quite remember enough to know exactly how many liberties I took with the original description of the tribute parade…


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